Shaking My Confidence
by thepajamaqueen85
Summary: She went from being an outlier in this death contraption to a wheel, lever, a tightly wound spring readying itself to snap. Cecelia of District 8 went from no one to tribute to victor to mother to rebel. This is her story.


Unfortunately, I do not own _The Hunger Games. _This is your disclaimer.

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"_Cecilia, you're breaking my heart_

_You're shaking my confidence daily._

_Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees,_

_I'm begging you please to come home."_

-Cecilia; Simon & Garfunkle

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At eighteen years old, Cecelia Dorman was untouchable. A mousy sort of girl, no young woman, whose cheeks were far too round and her smile too bright, her short brown hair always slightly mussed. She stands with the other eighteens making eye contact with a boy across the way with blue tinted hands. Her name was barely in the running for the Reaping, as was his. Nothing to worry about, ever the optimist. Another hour and she can get on with her life, her days of being Reaped far behind. She knows life is waiting on the other side of this hour. Yes, she will spend tomorrow morning climbing deep within the machines of the factory, examining its innards, pulling threads free, her hands working through the familiar puzzles of the machinery. Tonight, her parents will celebrate with real meat, and not the leftover scraps they normally feed from. After the ceremony, she and Loomen will escape to a rooftop for stolen kisses of relief. The hope of it all overwhelms her fears.

Until her name is called, and that bright smile falters. A nudge from the girl next to her sets the butcher's daughter on to the plodding path to her fate. It's like a dream, a nightmare, someone else's numb memory. It's a chain reaction, and she can see the pieces falling into place, much like the vast machines she has to service during her daily shift at the factory. She went from being an outlier in this death contraption to a wheel, lever, a tightly wound spring readying itself to snap. On the stage, with her vividly shining escort's graceful encouragement, she shakes the hand of her district partner. Her new enemy is a boy three years younger whose hand had been mangled by a sewing machine in the factory just two weeks prior. She's never had an enemy before. The stitches in his hand have a greenish hue and it makes her stomach churn. Her smile is so tense that her cheeks are beginning to hurt.

She goes through the motions, pushed along the assembly line, waiting for completion. Helpless, hopeless, she allows the conveyer belt to take her. Promises to be strong, to be brave, never quite pass her lips, mingling with the strained encouragement from her family. Cecilia can't quite shock herself into speaking just yet. Briefly, she wonders if this is for the best. Marrying her off to someone not looking for a stake in the family business is a difficult task- everyone in District 8 is looking for an escape from the factory. She knows Loomen does not have her father's approval, but perhaps no one ever would. She's been trained at the butcher's shop, prefers the factory work, never quite fit well at either. But, the shop is to become her brother's, five years her senior, married already with a baby. Maybe if it's a girl, he'll name it for his little sister, packaged and shipped off to war right before completion. The false smile prevents her from crying. She thinks it helps her mother, knows it won't fool her father. Her goodbye stays caught in her throat.

Cecelia remains frozen in place as a flurry of friends make their goodbyes. Tight hugs that she stores away for strength, should her smile falter. She's so oddly quiet that she allows herself to flow through their chatter. She can't think of anything to say, so they overcompensate. Sometimes she feels smart, like when she can find a hidden jam in one of the weaving machines, it's practical knowledge. Other times, she's got a bit of force into her, well trained by her father. But, she's always been a cornerstone for everyone, and tries to think they will stand tall without her holding the pieces in place. Even the sunniest of days can be marred by a well placed dark cloud. She's eighteen and was not supposed to come across a dark cloud for a long time yet. There's nothing remarkable about her past her sunshine.

But, the cloud breaks when the boy with the blue stained hands is led into the room. "Loomen, I can't," is all she can get out as she buries herself in him. He doesn't argue, can't argue. He's seen the Games enough to know that she's not a killer. She's smart, comfort embodied, and not a victor. His hands come to a rest on her hips, and he holds her. Good child-bearing hips, his mother has said. Cecelia has his parent's mark of approval, although she's never said her parents had stated the same. He's a dyer, and he knows that she could do better than him.

"Come home to me," he whispers, struggling to keep his voice steady. It's a request, a demand, and a promise, all wrapped into one phrase, and it's all he has for her. He reaches down and rips a strip of grey fabric from his shirt, the sound popping of threads filling the void. After winding it about her ring finger, he presses it to his lips. He knows he'll lose her in this, but he wants to hold tight to that thread of a future that is unraveling far too quickly. If he gives her a last kiss, she'll never be able to let go.

He's pulled from the room by a Peacekeeper with a blank face. They always have blank faces, and Cecelia realizes her lifelines are all gone and the rest is up to her. She wants to come home so badly and she's not even aboard the train yet. She does not grant herself the weakness to look behind her as she is escorted to the train, but her hands rub furiously at the trails left behind from tears. She can be strong. She will be strong. There is a way to fix this, there's a corner of cloth that has gotten bunched under a needle and she knows she can unsnag it. The smile returns as she boards the train, trying to desperately find the way home.

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**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of my story! I find Cecelia to be such an interesting minor character in the **_**Hunger Games**_**, although she is mentioned so briefly. This story will take her from her Reaping through the Quarter Quell. Please review!**


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